It never occurred to me that I would actually pray for my father to die.  But watching someone suffer from cancer brings changes to people.  Especially if the person suffering is someone we love.

    When my father had a lung biopsy which revealed that he had lung cancer, he accepted the news without comment.  Just nodded his head.  Later he said that it was his own fault, he knew that something was seriously wrong but he didn't go to the doctor until it was too late. 

    We took him to radiation therapy three times a week and those drives of twenty miles each way were difficult for all of us.  He wasn't able to move easily and to get in and out of the car was very difficult.  Then there was the waiting.  It was so hard for him to sit up.  He maintained a relatively positive attitude and took as many treatments as allowed.  But his condition became worse and he was soon bedridden.

    Because the pain was intense, he was given morphine and the time came when even that wasn't effective to stop the pain.  He suffered greatly and it was so hard to watch.  When Hospice came, they were wonderful and helped all of us know what would gradually happen, how to help my father become more comfortable and understand that when the final coma came, it would be a blessed relief to him.

    One evening I was bathing him and asked him if he could raise his arm.  He raised his arm high over his head in the manner of greeting someone.  It was a very tender moment because I realized at that time that even though his body was very weak, his spirit was very strong. 

    He died with dignity.  But his last words taught me a lesson about death that I will always cherish.  As his face became calm, he smiled and said,   Home.